Hell in Paris
by kamikaze-djali
Summary: A Comicverse Hellboy, Disney Hunchback of Notre Dame crossover fiction. No sex, no drugs. Maybe a bit of wine. It takes place in France, after all. Kate Corrigan orders out for Greek. No idea what else to write. Tried to make it fun. There may be sequels
1. BPRD in Paris

B.P.R.D. Case # 17-0798-1482

Location: Paris

Date: June 17th, 1998

Agents: Hellboy and Dr. Kate Corrigan

* * *

Hellboy and Kate go to Paris

Cecile had a rather large house for one person. Many relics from the past lined the shelves and walls, mainly photos and paintings of the Cathedral and history of the city. It was nothing new to those involved in historical societies or even history buffs. However, most of these artifacts were cheap replicas or small sidewalk paintings from aspiring artists. It was here, in Cecile's large home, Dr. Kate Corrigan and Hellboy began their mission.

Many tourists had seen the figure, yet not a single resident of the area seemed concerned. It wasn't the typical complaint, yet Dr. Corrigan felt there was validity in the statements from local academics and had insisted on joining Hellboy.

Kate had long since returned from the University with the most current research on Bogarts and cave-dwelling nymphs. Hellboy dismissed Kate's request to come along, stating, "it was all a fiction created over a hundred years ago" while fingering a cigar he was not allowed to smoke indoors. Yet the paperwork had been filed and the request made for an immediate presence. A steady reminder of the three-day deadline was the hourly chiming of those cursed bells. The pealing was only minimally tolerable in that they were well played

Hellboy stretched his legs out over the Ikea bed, his hooves dangling off the edge, reading "Harry Potter". Kate, involved in relevant paperwork, sat at a nearby desk pouring over old notes regarding ghost sightings dating back to the French Revolution, perhaps earlier.

"Are you not even the least bit interested?" inquired Kate

"If it's anything like the last five investigations it, whatever it is, can't be reasoned with." Hellboy held up the right hand of doom, which cast a large shadow on the wall over Kate. "Not concerned at all."

Kate let out a sigh and returned to her old manuscripts.

* * *

As the bells tolled over dinner, Cecile had mentioned that when she was younger the pealing had enchanted her.

"The notes always ring strong and true, beautiful melodies that are far too short."

"No pealing can be too short," grumbled Hellboy. Cecile continued talking, through Hellboy's complaining, without stopping for air.

"…songs that would take great effort and experience to play, for even the most experienced bellringer. I listen to their tolling every day, you know. I imagine that it is the middle ages, I'm a gypsy beauty and Quasimodo is ringing the bells rather than a monk or priest."

Kate looked at Hellboy, who signed to her from below the table edge with his left hand.

"N-U-T-J-O-B"

Hellboy set down his coffee mug and nodded to Cecile. No words were needed. Kate and Cecile sat alone at the table, a teapot between them. Both cups were soon filled and they walked slowly down one of the narrow hallways.

"Here, have a look at this one." Cecile passed Kate an old dusty stack of parchment between aged leather bindings.

"The building is old, the city is older" said Kate, not lifting her gaze from her fingers as they flipped through an old manuscript. "…and stories are stories."

"I suppose so. Yet to imagine that such a person existed, that there was once a bellringer in that very church that lived such a life? It's romantic." chimed Cecile, following Dr. Corrigan closely as she examined the artifacts. "Imagine if I'd been the one to rescue him. Mon Dieu, it would have been wonderful."

Kate, only half listening, flipped through the books of photos and sketches on the shelves with quick jerky movements. This was the best place to learn, aside from within the walls of the Cathedral itself, about a haunting. Cecile was trying her patience significantly.

"600 years ago, you would have been as scared as anyone else, Cecile. It was a dark time, the Renaissance was merely beginning." Kate really didn't know what else to say. There was something wrong with this aged woman, an imbalance between the lines on her face and her juvenile outlook on a work of fanciful fiction. Cecile continued to follow Kate towards her room.

"When I was younger, I crept into the belltower in search of Quasimodo, you know. I didn't find him of course, and was soon removed by a priest. While I was there, though, I found something. It's likely nothing, but I will show it to you. It made me believe he was there, even though I couldn't see him. After all, how else would it have gotten there?"

Kate smiled and nodded, her eyes drifting to her door as if to say "I'd rather deal with that demonic pickled puzzle-head again" Instead, Kate turned towards Cecile and asked if she could bring the object to her.

Cecile brought her childhood find, carefully cupping it in her hands. It was a small piece of carved wood. She set it, upright, onto the table before Kate. It was clearly a dog, and a very well carved dog at that.

"This, child, is what inspired me to move to Paris. You have no idea the joy I felt when I found it."

Kate gingerly turned the dog in her hand, staring at the doorknob to her room. "I'll look into it, Cecile."

* * *

"That woman is nuts"

"She's delusional. Yet the wood is old, and very well could be at least 100 years old."

The two figures walked through the narrow streets toward Notre Dame by light of the crescent moon.

"Weren't there werewolves last time?" Hellboy lit his cigar.

"You killed the three of them and Roger took a bullet for you."

"Right. Thanks for clearing that up." Hellboy looked up at the towers of the great Cathedral. "Before that it was a possessed homunculus head, then an incubus. How did we miss this one?"

Kate said nothing, but followed Hellboys' glowing yellow eyes as they passed over the layered shadows of the great stone façade. Kate anxiously followed a figure between the columns.

"There is a man up there."

"Not what we're looking for, Katie." Her companion puffed out a long stream of smoke. "It's just a guy in a coverall with a bucket and broom."

Hellboy took one last draw in his cigar, then tossed it to the ground, grinding the ash into the cobbles with his left hoof.

"Shall we?"

The two agents walked slowly toward Notre Dame. Infrared camera switched on, Kate walked beside her friend.

Kate opened a small door, left unlocked for service staff, and walked calmly onto the checkerboard floor of sanctuary. Few candles lit the belly of the church, within which drifted the faint odor of incense. Aside from about a half dozen worshippers, the place was empty.

Hellboy watched as the faithful prayed, his eyes watching as they remained immotile with their heads down. His hooves let out a faint echo on the aged marble floor despite a conscious effort to remain silent. He stood quiet and watched them carefully, following the shadows that hovered above them in eerie shapes that resembled him. Kate pulled him along.

"We're here for more than a few possessed churchgoers" whispered Kate, "besides, you've seen them in every church we've ever been in."

"Still doesn't make it right."

Kate snapped a few photos of the frescos and fine sculpture as she walked past the worshippers.

"It's not why we're here."

The partners advanced into the darkness of the cathedral, following the narrow passageways and stone steps through the arcades, finally arriving at the narrow stairway to the North belltower.

Within the tower was dust, and lots of it. As they ascended higher, the air became clearer and the area far cleaner. Of course, there were barriers across the narrow ladders and steps meant to prevent visitors from entering. Kate photographed the disturbed dust and irregular patterns of cobwebs.

Kate set her camera down near a stone gargoyle that appeared to have suffered some serious misfortune. Hellboy poured a clear liquid onto the wood floor, one lit up only by Woods' Lamp.

"Red. Could you lift this? I think it's sitting on something." Indeed there was. Dr. Corrigan snatched a thin, yellowed envelope from under the dusty sculpture while Hellboy held the gargoyle in his hands. Kate quickly slid the contents of the envelope into her palm. Dust began to fall on the both of them.

"We'd better go, Katie."

Dr. Corrigan looked up to see the bells slowly beginning to waver from side to side, their clappers in motion.

_Dong_

Kate covered her ears as her and Hellboy ran down the ladders and out of the tower. More notes were soon added to the melody as they made their way to the row of columns between the towers and to the inside on the church where there was faint candlelight. The bells remained loud, yet bearable.

Kate opened the letter and held it so both her and Hellboy could read it. It was definitely the writing of a girl, as hearts topped each "i". It was written in broken French, as a student of French may write. Through the damaged language, Kate could still see that this person had a deep passion for whom she had written her confession of love. Indeed, it was written in such a manner as a confession. It was addressed to "Quasimodo the Bellringer".

Hellboy shook his head in disgust. There was really no easy way out of this, it was warped. It had likely happened before hundreds of times, the messages left under stones and removed by repairmen or clergy.

"It is somewhat touching", stated Kate, matter-of-factly.

Hellboy merely grunted and continued walking through the Cathedral, leaving Kate behind him with the letter in her hands.

Having walked through the entire church belly by night, they returned to Cecile's home. Cecile's light was still on, her window open slightly.

* * *

Hellboy read a few chapters of "Harry Potter", then set the book on the ground next to him. Kate lay across the room, already sleeping beneath a thick blanket. A cold cup of tea stood on her night table.

* * *

...Hope everyone likes this, at least to some degree. It's supposed to be light-hearted & yet keep the comic-verse in character. I am not against editing, so if something doesn't flow or seem right, let me know. Good comments are rewarding, yet constructive criticism helps me improve. The "Roger" fic needs more editing and should be done soon.

--- jenny


	2. In the Belltower

Part 2": The Belltower

Kate stood in line in wait of a tour of Notre Dame, surrounded by tourists. Two young girls, in dresses with a slight "Boho" look, quietly sang "God help the outcasts" to themselves while waiting for their tour, swishing their skirts as they walked between the columns. The tour would show nothing, yet Kate felt it necessary to see where the figure had been reported firsthand. Besides, it was entertaining to watch the young tourists act foolish.

After about fifteen minutes of chattering about how to not fall from Notre Dame, the guide began to walk the group through the church. Kate carefully observed the angles and columns for moving shadows. About twenty minutes later, the tour group entered the towers. The guide talked on and on about a small bell, one that was in a cage, destined to never ring again. He described to a spellbound group how Victor Hugo's historic novel saved the Cathedral in the early 1800's. He spoke of how that small bell would have once sounded out at Quasimodo's hand to drive the lightening away from Paris.

Kate shook her head; the guide himself didn't even know the truth. Many bellringers had been electrocuted in this way, throughout Europe. In reality, the guide was an engineering student from the University. She glanced at the spire, which was essentially a giant lightening rod. One would want to be on the other end of the wooden bell in a thunderstorm or risk certain death.

The student continued to talk, mangling several stories, both fictional and factual, into a nonsensical mish-mash and Kate knew it. She softly shook her head disapprovingly, yet subtle enough that no one could notice. The student continued his speech.

"Quasimodo was the only bellringer from 1470 to 1482, when he committed suicide."

"This guy needs to read more." Thought Kate to herself, yet her expression reading as if she wanted to cry out of pity. "Three towers at once. Not bad for one guy." Yet she looked at the spellbound young girls and realized, maybe, he was merely trying to get a date.

Suddenly, Kate felt the eyes of another on her. There was someone in the tower above, a silent observer tracing her every move through the darkness of the tower. She followed the feeling of the stare, watching closely for a figure in the shadows. Kate snapped several images with her infrared camera. It did not wish to be seen. Suddenly it disappeared into the shadows, out of view. Whatever it was, it was certainly human, or at least somewhat.

Kate soon left the tour, wandering deep into the tower from where she'd sensed the eyes set upon her.

* * *

Hellboy was already in the North tower, carefully exploring the many floors and beams nestled around the great bells, and had been since early that morning. He'd already been through the South tower and found nothing. Earplugs were in place, to protect him from the erratic pealing. There was very little dust high in the towers and surprisingly little pigeon dung despite an abundance of birds. Invariably, some landed on his coat.

Soon, Hellboy climbed a small, neatly hidden ladder behind the largest bell in the tower. Latin verse lay etched in the bronze, yet was difficult to read in the darkness, he merely felt the cold letters beneath his palm. At the top of the ladder, an entire section was barred off with a lock on a thick wooden door and solid wooden walls higher than himself. The lock was very old and apparently well oiled. It was almost a shame to break it. Hellboy broke it. He slowly pulled the door open.

Behind the door was a series of small rooms, each remarkably neat and clean with most of the essentials of daily life. They all reeked of age and time, as many old libraries do. The place contained an eeriness that Hellboy'd not seen or felt before, in that it held an aura of calm rather than malice. The whole place was modern, yet at the same time woefully out of date. Even more remarkable was a lack of dust on any surface but the highest bookshelves.

Plastic peanut butter and margarine pails lined one wall, each full of clean water. A few empty buckets sat stacked in a neat pile amongst broken sculptures. The bed was unmade and clothed with a mix of wool and cotton blankets on a pillow-top mattress. Candles, at various lengths, smoldered from their unique fastenings to makeshift holders. Scrolls, books, carvings, woodcuts and modern novels lined the shelves. A straight razor, free of rust, sat near a chamois and china basin with a bar of "Irish Spring" soap.

Modern objects sat intermingled with the old. A Maglite and some batteries sat next to the stack of old books, as did a disassembled green Coleman lantern with a broken mantle. Bottles of different coloured ink sat amongst quills, ballpoint pens, mechanical pencils and various grades of paper in neat piles. Camp fuel, a wrought iron fireplace and a stack of birch logs sat in the middle of one of the largest rooms. This room also bordered the large metal slats at the side of the tower, likely to allow smoke to dissipate safely.

Hellboy sighed deeply. The smell, the neatness together with the inevitable collection of various junk reminded him of Trevor Bruttenholms' study. The one factor that defied this similarity was the absence of any photographs, art or mirrors on the walls. He touched nothing as he passed through. There was no ghost in Notre Dame, the "ghost" was alive, and the clergy knew it. He stood for a moment, eyes closed and running the rosary through his fingers.

* * *

Having found no life in the apartment, for that is what it was, Hellboy re-entered the open tower and turned on the Wood's lamp. Neon green footprints, large with flat leather soles, trailed through the maze of beams and bells.

Hellboy followed the creature with an eerie silence, his hooves barely making a sound on the aged wooden floors and ladders. Within a few minutes, Kate joined Hellboy at a large red wooden door, one locked from the inside.

"It's in there, Kate." Hellboy drew his oversized pistol, loaded with Holy water and clove leaf cartridges.

"I don't think we'll need it, Red." Kate smiled. "The wannabe-gypsies rubbed off on me."

Kate pulled a key from her pocket and inserted it into the lock. After some jiggling, the lock released and the door opened.

Hellboy peeked around the corner, his eyes flashing towards the figure in the far corner of the room.

All that could be heard was the snap of several large orange glowsticks as they hit the right hand of doom and landed onto the floor. A human leg and shoe could be seen pulling farther into the darkness.

Kate approached Hellboy from the side and walked into the orange darkness of the small room. It was slightly damp, large and smelled of incense and old linen.

"Please, go." A raspy voice pleaded.

"We're not here to hurt you." Urged Kate. "Perhaps you can help us."

Several moments later another few words came from the shadows.

"This is my…" a deep sigh was audible "…home."

"Screw this" Hellboy flipped a halogen beam into the corner of the room.

Kate rushed towards the stunned man, who could do naught but stare directly into the beam with his single functional eye. His body was frozen in motion, his jaw slightly lowered.

"Turn it off, Red."

Hellboy flipped the switch, yet otherwise remained motionless. He knew the figure that stood before them and could feel his terror. The question that rolled through his mind was how it was possible.

Meanwhile, Kate stood next to the man and reassured him that no harm would come to him. He appeared anxious about remaining, yet stood and watched Kate rather than running. His glance continually shifted to Hellboy, flashing with apprehension each time.

"He's a friend."

Hellboy slowly backed out of the room and closed the door, leaving it open a mere crack. "I'll be back, Katie."

Kate ignored the closure of the door, but rather struck a match and lit a single candle. The pale light of the candle, together with the eerie glow of the sticks on the floor, illuminated a face like none she had ever seen before. The red hair, single right eye. She recognized him immediately. It was impossible, but before her stood a man of about twenty with a hunchback and an expression of prolonged sadness.

"You're the Bellringer."

"Oui."

Kate glanced over his entire face and body, taking it in with a calm disbelief. His left eye was mostly hidden under a large growth, his jaw short, his teeth crooked and his back had a pronounced hunch. Yet he carried with him a sort of strength that, until now, she only associated with Hellboy. She turned off the camera and slid it into her pocket.

"Why do you stare at me so?" His voice, rough yet sweet, took Kate out of her trance. The man spoke again. "You already know who I am, you have not to ask. As for why I am here, I knew this day would eventually come."

Kate watched the man move about the room.

"I never imagined you would be here, alive, in these walls. It doesn't make sense at all. You shouldn't be here." Kate told him.

"I've been here a long time, rarely leaving, and have learned much from those who pass through." Kate watched his eye intently as he abruptly changed the subject. "Why do you come here?"

"Reports of a haunting, dating back close to 300 years." Kate replied flatly. Quasimodo smiled shyly, he was uglier than she ever thought he would be, yet his whole person appealed to her in an odd way. His manner seemed gentle and natural, his voice and aura calm throughout.

"It's been longer than that." He watched Kate with an intensity that seemed to cut right through to her soul. Kate remained where she was, studying his every movement yet not caring that he could read her so well. She reached out as he passed before her, grasping a warm, muscular arm in her hand.

"Just checking." The bellringer stopped in place, his eye locking into hers.

Quasimodo watched the words leave her lips and began to laugh to himself. Kate watched him closely, then relaxed almost instantaneously as he suddenly became much more comfortable around her.

"What do you plan to do?" he asked, the words almost forced from his youthful lips.

"Not what was originally planned." Kate sighed, yet a small smile slowly crept across her face. "There is no evil in this room."

Quasimodo stood. "What of your friend, the demon, who waits outside the door?"

Kate shifted her glance to the door, which a draft had blown open. Hellboy was gone.

* * *

_Hopefully this isn't blasphemy to the rabid Quasimodo fans, or the rabid Hellboy fans. Tell e what you thin, please. Good or bad, I want to know. Forgot to mention "authors notes" on the first chapter, and it should seem obvious, but Hellboy, Kate and Quasimodo are not mine. I borrowed them for my own story-writing pleasure._


	3. An Odd Friend

An Odd Friend

Hellboy walked through the towers, in search of one of but a handful of relics that would allow Quasimodo to remain in the belltower without being a zombie or vampire. He looked young, yet his eyes told the truth; his very soul was alive and ancient. Hellboy pulled out a small cracked jar containing a piece of St Anthony's left kidney, which dangled at the end of a soiled chain.

"Lets have a look-see around, shall we?" Hellboy mumbled to himself.

The stairs grunted under Hellboy's massive weight as he entered into the deepest area of the Notre Dame, beneath the belltower. He could feel the cold chill of both stale air and wandering spirits pass next to him.

* * *

Kate sat next to Quasimodo, intently listening to his voice, his stories. He knew more about the city, more about it's history, than any library or monastery.

"I've not been out of Notre Dame in 30 years", sighed Quasimodo "Few reasons to leave, since there is nothing out there. The 70's were fun, though. Could go to the marketplace and it seemed the people were too dazed to notice anything. The wine was good, too."

Kate couldn't stop herself from laughing. The image conjured in her mind was of the bellringer in bellbottoms.

"You know of the B.P.R.D., then?" Kate asked, noticing Quasimodo stared at her watch that bore the logo.

"Read about it. Wasn't sure if it really existed." He stated.

"Have you had your dinner yet?" asked Kate, knowing that Hellboy would invariably be hungry. More time with this strange, ancient man would help her learn more about the city and it's secrets. Of course, what she really wanted to know was "why are you warm to the touch rather than crispy, dried out and wanting to eat or destroy humanity like most nearly 600 year old people Hellboy & I encounter."

Kate's eyes or lips must have spoken for her as she thought, since the bellringer answered her question with another question.

"Why is it important to you?" Quasimodo stood up. "The bells need tending to, you may come along if you wish." There was a pause. "No, I've not eaten yet."

Quasimodo turned his back to her and leapt up the flight of steps in two bounds.

Kate followed Quasimodo toward the stairs to the belltower, meanwhile dialing out for a dinner for eight at a Greek restaurant on her cel, for delivery to Notre Dame. The garlic could prove useful.

* * *

The red demon walked through the depths of the cathedral, his eyes the only light visible. The relic hung uselessly from his wrist, next to Broom's rosary. There were many lost souls beneath Notre Dame, yet none attracted the attention of the finder of lost things. Soul-saving was the duty of those cloistered in the cells above his head, a task at which they had failed.

Hellboy walked between the resting placed of kings, deacons and other officials within the crypts below the church. It was dark and musty and the stink of rotten flesh hung faint on the air. Cobwebs and spiders filled the narrow passageways and staircases. Decades may have passed since the last living soul passed through, except to die.

Deep within a narrow stairwell, the kidney began to pulsate and leak serum. Hellboy advanced deeper into the chasm. The air was of poor quality, causing him to choke slightly from lack of oxygen. The dust particles burned his nostrils and throat as he arrived at a room full of wine casks and old crockery. Forgotten rat skeletons, stripped of flesh for some time yet remaining moist with black moldy ooze, also lay in a pile on the floor.

Hellboy drew his jacket across his nose and breathed the foul, yet now dustless, air. Lifting cask after cask, he soon realized what he was searching for was above him. Within the cracks of the wall was a small stone, tightly crammed into its moldy depths. The kidney leaked a steady stream of urine, which seeped from the vial, as he set it next to the stone. Hellboy placed his find into a weather-proof ammo pouch and turned to leave.

Suddenly, the walls began to shake around him as the noon-bells rang out.

Hellboy turned on his communicator.

"Katie. Where are you? What's happening."

Kate, who was standing in the tower, could only guess at his words. "He's harmless, Red. I ordered takeout. Bring lunch back."

"Yeah, I know it's the hunchback. I'm looking into…"

"… forty minutes."

Hellboy stood and waited for the bells to cease, only static audible with the ringing. His phone vibrated, a text message from Kate.

"dlvry 1245"

"Alchemy rock," he texted back.

Hellboy closed his phone and left the church.

* * *

"Why do you keep yourself in this tower when there are so many things you could do?" Kate asked, as her and the bellringer walked through the tower toward the spiral staircase.

"People fear the truth, Kate, and they always will. To leave this place, to live outside these walls would bring many questions and unsettling answers." Kate gently placed her hand on his shoulder, her fingers brushing his hump. "The world will never accept me for me, especially Paris."

"Red, err… , Hellboy and I have been throughout the globe. Those in academic circles are able to accept him for what he is."

The bellringer looked at Kate, yet said nothing. His eye turned to a moving shadow in the spiral stairway.

At that moment, Kate heard hooves on the stone steps, and the crunching of paper bags. Hellboy rounded the corner and looked Quasimodo in the eye, then turned his gaze to Kate. Quasimodo fixed his attention upon the rosary securely looped around Hellboy's left wrist.

"Already ate the kalouria, figured you wouldn't mind." He pointed to one of the nearly-empty bags with his oversized right hand. "Where we eatin'?"

Kate took one of the bags and looked at Quasimodo, who had taken a step back and was now rubbing his left fist with his right hand.

"This way."

The route was one Hellboy knew from earlier that day, and soon enough they were at a small ladder behind "Big Marie". Quasimodo pulled an old key from his pocket, yet returned it as he saw the lock hung uselessly from the door-latch.

"Sorry 'bout that." Hellboy grunted, "thought we were dealing with something else. Can replace it, if you like."

Quasimodo's shoulder's slumped slightly, and he shook his head. He said nothing, yet guided Kate and Hellboy into the large room bordering the edge of the tower, near the small fireplace.

Kate, who had not yet been through this part of the tower, nearly stumbled as she passed through the different rooms. Old manuscripts and hand-written volumes of classic literature filled the shelves and cubby-holes. "There must be books and scrolls in here from…"

"…the eleventh century and older." The bellringer finished. "Some are from Roman times."

Kate stood in awe, taking in her surroundings. She then returned her attention to Quasimodo when Hellboy's jacket brushed her leg. She opened her mouth to speak, the bellringer continued.

"You may read them if you wish."

"I'd like that very much."

Quasimodo turned and limped toward the walls, soon making a table from empty buckets and a large piece of wood. Hellboy watched the bellringer neatly set it on the buckets. The board easily weighed 200 lbs.

The three sat down on the floor to eat from a makeshift table. Hellboy continually shifted a staring glance at Quasimodo, Quasimodo returned these glances. Both he and Hellboy shoveled their pastitsio and anginares, after realizing they were too hungry to continue looking at each other.

"When did he give it to you?" Hellboy blurted out to the bellringer.

"A long time ago." Quasimodo set his fork down. "How do you know?"

"Only one object could do this to you without your being dead first." Said Hellboy, as he picked a piece of lamb from a small bone with his teeth. "Have it in my pocket. Don't really need to keep it. Should have hidden it better, though."

Hellboy set the ammo bag, containing the stone, on the table amongst the Greek takeout.

"A philosopher's stone in Notre Dame." Hellboy shook his head. "It may not glow like the one in the movie, but that's definitely what it is."

Kate and Hellboy stared at the bellringer, not sure what to do. There were two problems to contend with, one was Quasimodo himself who seemed to not be much of a problem. The other, much more serious issue, was the Philosophers' stone, which could pose a serious threat in the wrong hands.

A series of historical events ran through Kate's mind. Centuries ago, Claude Frollo had coveted it, the best place to have hidden it would have been under Frollo's nose. Someone, Nicholas Flamel perhaps, had given it to the bellringer for keeping without telling him what it was, not fully considering the consequence of such an act. Flamel would have died of old age while the new owner survived.

"It has to stay, Red." Kate looked to Quasimodo. "I have but one request, hide that stone well. No one must ever find it."

"It was left here for safe keeping," whispered the bellringer. "It may only be found by the one who owns it…"

"…or one who doesn't seek it to use it," finished Hellboy.

Hellboy picked up the rough cloth bag containing the plain grey stone, which appeared as a nasty, hairy chunk of concrete, and laid it in the bellringers' palms.

"This world is a dangerous place for something like this to exist in. Imagine if the Nazi's had learned of it's existence?"

Quasimodo placed the bag in his breast pocket after ensuring the bag indeed carried the Philosophers' stone.

"I will."

* * *

Over the rest of the day, Kate Corrigan spent her time in the bell tower with Quasimodo, reading through centuries worth of spells, incantations and history. The bellringer didn't seem to mind her presence, guiding her through the ancient languages and faintly-written scrolls.

"Your friend, 'Hellboy', is on the side of God, isn't he."

Kate lifted her eyes from the ancient manuscript and looked into Quasimodo's eye and smiled. Quasimodo smiled.

"…also a demon?"

"One could say that. Never really looked into it." Kate no longer paid attention to the text before her. "Bruttenholm raised him, found him in Scotland as a baby at the end of the second world war."

"I remember that one well. They took the windows out of the Cathedral for the second time, the ground shook, sanctuary wasn't safe." His expression seemed to glaze over for a brief moment. "There were a lot of badly wounded people that came here for help."

Kate remained silent for a few moments before relating how her and Hellboy had met, and the BPRD had come into being. She ended with the death of Trevor Broom at the hands of frog people. "Broom would have loved to meet you. You would have liked him, too. He was very wise."

Kate swore she saw the hint of a blush on Quasimodo's pale cheeks, yet he made every effort not to let it show.

The pair resumed their readings and enjoyed each other's company in quiet solitude.

* * *

While Kate and her new friend spent time in the tower, Hellboy searched the catacombs for traces of missed werewolves and paranormal activity. He knew the bellringer was uncomfortable around him, despite not saying it outright. For now, he humored himself below the city, enjoying his own solitude in ankle-deep sewage.

After several hours of wandering around, charting passages not previously noted, Hellboy came to a large open room. Burned fabric hung in shreds from the vaulted ceiling, broken and blackened wagons saturated in mould lay on the ground. The bones of goats, horses and humans lined the distant wall in an unorganized mat. Glass lanterns, iron cooking pots and horseshoes lay scattered at random. There were three ways out of this open, underground space. Hellboy explored them all. Each passage ended in a dead-end or subway tunnel.

Hellboy emerged into the darkness of the Paris night. The city was still alive and Notre Dame was illuminated with yellow floodlights. Having received his package from a very nervous delivery boy, he returned to the Cathedral through the side entrance.

While passing through the church, Hellboy tossed a handful of river-garnets blessed by a Buddhist monk into the Holy water. It was quick, easy and did no harm.

* * *

Five pizzas flopped down onto the makeshift table, together with wine and cola.

"Figured you'd be hungry, Katie. And Quasi."

Hellboy'd not put out his cigar and stood next to the table, his glowing yellow eyes fixed on Quasimodo. His half-boots were damp, forming an outline of his hooves on the wood floor.

"I ain't gonna hurt ya, kid." He reached out with his left hand and knuckled him softly on the shoulder. "Hide your rock yet?"

"I… Well you see, I've been…"

"Understood. You're helping Katie." Hellboy opened the top pizza box and folded three pieces into a stack for himself. "Eat up."

Both demolished the pizzas while Kate continued to read the papers. Wine and a couple slices of pizza lay untouched on the floor next to her seat.

* * *

After two and a half days in Notre Dame, the Bureau had contacted both Kate and Hellboy regarding a recurrence of the Red Cap in Scotland, thus departure was imminent.

It was just inside the great door of a deserted Notre Dame that the parting took place.

"I'll be sure to visit you next time I'm in Paris." Kate motioned, then reached out and placed a "waste management" card in his palm. She slid her hand to Quasimodo's shoulder.

It was then that Quasimodo's expression softened and he placed his arm on Kate's. She leaned forward, allowing Quasimodo's arms to wrap around her completely. Their cheeks touched as the embraced.

"Do come back." He whispered near her ear.

Both Dr. Corrigan and Quasimodo smiled as their hands parted.

Hellboy stood quiet. He nodded toward the bellringer, only the corners of his mouth forming a hint of a smile. He lifted his left hand slightly, which held a black coffee, as if to wave goodbye. Quasimodo nodded back, the smile having not left his face.

* * *

The two friends sat across from each other in the helicopter that was now taking them to Scotland. Hellboy looked up from the briefing, to see Kate staring out the window, down at Paris.

"I'm not looking forward to the paperwork on this one, Red." Kate continued to stare out the window. "He's done nothing to deserve loss of privacy. The stone, though. We can't ignore it."

"Nothing will happen." Hellboy sipped at his coffee. "The report will be filed away, after a couple of weeks no one will care about it's existence or Quasimodo's."

"I will." She brushed her fingers over the keyboard of her laptop, not typing a word. "Didn't even take any photographs, aside from that one of his foot on the tour."

Hellboy continued reading and sipping, barely raising his eyes.

"You don't carry my picture in your wallet either, Katie."

Kate's mind spun over the last few days. She had truly felt guilty as she left Cecile's home for the last time. The poor woman had spent a good deal of time dreaming about what lay hidden within the walls of Notre Dame Cathedral. She'd spent her life reading legends and understood the truth as she'd read it. She dreamed of the man that Kate herself had learned so much from in such a short time. Kate had told her there had been nothing in the tower but a few old papers and broken statues.

Moreover, Kate wished that she could have spent more time with the bellringer; his brain was something she would have liked to pick a bit longer. Hopefully, she would see him again. Kate broke the silence yet again.

"Is it possible he'll ever leave Notre Dame?"

"Not until he tires of observing." Hellboy lowered the paper folder. "Most people lives their whole lives in much the same manner. It's not that unusual. No doubt we'll be in Paris again by the end of the year, anyhow. There were some weird goings-on in the catacombs. Think I found the Court of Miracles. It's an ideal place for satanic cult rituals or frog people, especially since the floor is unstable. I might fall through it."

"It's sad, though. To have seen so much, yet do nothing with it." Kate seemed not to have heard her friend.

Hellboy lifted the paper once more. "He rings bells."

* * *

_Author notes: for those who care and think I don't do symbolism_

_Harry Potter is included as a manner of bringing the Philosophers' Stone and Notre Dame de Paris full-circle. Frollo was actually seeking the stone, yet to make gold from light rather than seek immortality. It is mentioned in NDdP that it may be hidden in the Cathedral, as well._

_Garnets apparently purify the soul, hence Hellboy throws them into the holy water to cleanse the possessed churchgoers_

_St. Anthony is the patron Saint of lost objects_

_Kate is concerned, mildly, that Quasimodo is a vampire or zombie at one point. She tests this theory by feeding him garlic, hence the Greek food._

_Since Quasimodo is deaf, Kate and Hellboy look at him, and he watches them when they speak, I try to stress this eye movement  
_

_Hellboy's sign language is a foreshadowing of Quasi's deafness_

_I tried to line historical facts correctly, such as the rose windows being removed during the world wars and bellringers ringing to drive away storms_

_Tried to relate Quasimodo and Hellboy's foundling status_

_Made the stone humble, ugly to look at yet much more than what it seems, like_ _Quasimodo_

_Thanks for reading!_

_ -jenny  
_


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